I Spy With My Little Eye Something Blue
by whathappenedtosomeday
Summary: AU: Dean and Sam are part of a secret organization that gets brought in when a case gets too hot to handle. Castiel is a very famous artist that just became the next target to the drug dealer, and known killer Azazel. Why though? That's the question.
1. Chapter 1

The door creaked when it was removed from its hinges. Sam lifted the bulky thing and set it next to the brick wall, intending to replace it once his partner was inside.

"According to Bobby, you only got thirty minutes before security and or the killers come to check out this section. I have the live feed and security codes already running back at the van." Sam whispered into the cold chill of night. Dean nodded his understanding. He then started into the building but was stopped by a hard weight on his arm.

"One more thing Dean," Sam breathed, "be careful." Dean's smirk implied his obvious retort and seemed to highlight his growing confidence.

"Cake." came his reply. Then, after a beat, "Or pie, whichever they have at the store. Have it ready for me by the time I get back." and with that Dean disappeared into the dark depths of the art museum, not waiting for Sam to give him the all clear.

The hallway was short and Dean found himself already across and reaching for the handle of the door. This was it. Four years and counting the Winchesters had been tracking the bastard, and this was their last chance. Being covert had its advantages, but in this case, made hunting down Azazel a real bitch. He would pop up on radar for a few days only for Dean to get there right before he would get cut from the signal. Hours of tracking wasted for a trail that seemed to have no end. This wild goose chase was ending though, and it was ending tonight.

Dean pushed open the door only to be greeted by a soft hum of music and an even lighter tone of conversation spilling from the room below. He was about three yards from the balcony, easily out of sight. Dean heard the gruff sound of Sam in his ear then, a bit loud and caused a slight jolt through Dean.

"Okay, in two minutes the security camera in the hallway to your left will go dead. Take the hallway to the end, the staircase should be unguarded."

"What floor does it have him on?" Dean whispered back into the receiver.

"Third, but he's making his way down. Intercept him before he reaches his targets." Dean checked his watch, and slowly began inching toward the hallway on his left, making sure to stay out of view of the patrons below. Slinking against the wall, he checked his watch again. 5-4-3-2-

"Go now." Sam directed from his ear. Dean pulled open the door to the hallway silently, slipping inside. The hall was still clear, meaning the speech from the host was about to start. If all went to plan, Azazel would be taken care of long before the speech came to a close.

"Take the stairs, then a sharp right into a study chamber." Sam commanded. Dean did as he was told, making sure to stay light on his feet and check the area once more before bending to pick the lock to the wide black door. They were french doors, massive, and booming with obvious expense. When the lock clicked under Dean's pick, he slithered inside, making sure to tuck away the door with precise care.

"He's in the library. Two paces to the right, twenty minutes before the security line get tripped." Dean slid to the next door. _Here we go_. Dean drew his gun and clung to the wall next to the door. He took a breath, then another. Then, in one swift movement, pulled open the door and ran inside. A shot was fired but missed him by inches. Dean tried to focus. The Library was vast and dim. There was a quiet beep coming from somewhere in the room, but Dean didn't take the time to try and locate the source.

"Third Row," came a shaky Sam. Dean headed in that direction, gun still drawn and pointing out. His heart was racing and him mind was muddled, but his senses were clear and true. Instinct took control of his limbs as he pounced into the third row. Nothing.

"Sam?" Dean asked as quietly as he could.

"ABORT ABORT! DEAN, GET OUT OF THERE!" The harsh tone of Sam voice made Dean clutch his ears in pain, but before he could understand the command, an explosion came from behind him, sending him off into the nearest book case. Sam's voice was running a mile a minute through the ear piece but the signal was shaking from the impact. Dean lay on the ground, trying to clear the pain from his mind. He quickly recovered and searched the room, taking no time in walking lightly. There was still a pain in his head, and Sam was still trying to get through. He felt warmth spreading on his right arm, probably from the fall, and his ears were still ringing. Dean sprinted around the corner just in time to see the light from the door cease as the door was closed. _The group from below didn't even notice the small explosion from the thick and sound proof walls that covered the property_. He still had time to get this right.

When he entered the hallway that lead to the stairs, he jumped, swinging himself with the help of the railing, landing perfectly on the second floor. Azazel was no where in sight.

"Sam! Sam can you hear me? Has he made it to the first floor yet?" No response. Damn, looks like he was on his own for now. The security feed probably caught Dean on his way back through the hallway, but Sam could take care of that later, as long as the guards were still tied up in the control room. When Dean was back by the balcony, he immediately stopped running and leaned over to scan the crowd.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, furs and tuxes covering every body, and the classical music filled the vast space. The art on display was fantastic, worth millions at the least, though any member who had received an invitation was sure to be able to afford any selection from the artist's collection.

Azazel was no where in sight. _Well_, thought Dean, _time for plan B_. Dean then began stripping himself of his equipment and dark clothing to reveal a simple black tuxedo. The painful gash on his arm hopefully wouldn't show through the material. Dean then went back to the door he came in, stuffing the attire though the door. He moved back over to the balcony and looked down once again, just in case he could maybe get a glimpse of the murderer, but just then, a man stepped onto the stage in front of the audience. He hit his champagne glass a few times, before everyone went completely silent. The man then cleared his throat, ready to give his speech.

_So this was him_, Dean thought to himself, _the victim, or one of them at least. Poor bastard_. Dean was about to turn from the sight and pursue the criminal from the crowd, but as the man on stage began speaking; he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. His voice was gruff, and deep, not at all what Dean would expect based on his appearance. However it seemed to match him nonetheless. He was wearing a simple tux, and his hair was a little out of control. It was hard to see at this distance, but Dean was sure his eyes were blue. They were so bright and vibrant it would be hard not to notice no matter how far away.

The speaker paused a moment, seeming a bit lost in his speech, and then his eyes went straight to Dean. The instinct side of Dean demanded he get the hell out of there, but the man's blue eyes locked him in place. Something turned in Dean's stomach under the scrutiny. Then the eyes were back to the audience, as if they had never left, continuing on with his kind words and thanks.

Dean then sprung into action, remembering what exactly he was there for. He made for the stairs and descended undetected due to everyone's attention on the blue-eyed man. Dean took the time to observe the crowd. Azazel would make his mark at the end of the speech. That was the plan if Dean and Sam had gotten the correct information. However the killer would have to be close to distribute the poison to his targets. Dean balled his fists in frustration and anger. He was running out of time. Just then his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden clapping from everyone in the room.

Dean's heart sped in his chest thumping until all he could hear was its pulses. He couldn't move. Only his eyes kept darting through the crowd. And then he spotted him. Azazel was in a tux as well, but one lavishly decorated appearing to be of royalty. A massive flare of anger again pulsed through Dean, and just as he was about to stalk across the room, a voice in his ear drew him back to his body. The voice was not Sam, though.

"Are you enjoying the display?" The voice said. Dean spun his head, only to be faced with the blue-eyed man from the stage. It only took Dean a moment to find himself. The knowledge that he had not failed calmed his core and set him more at ease.

"Yes, the artist is incredibly talented." Dean replied if slightly distracted.

"I like to think so-" there was a brief chuckle from the man. "Are you looking for someone?" The blue eyed man asked (and yeah, really blue) detecting the shuffling Dean. Dean decided in an instant.

Yes! I am, could you possibly direct me to..." Dean took a moment to search his mental files for Azazel's cover name. "Lord Dashwood?"

"Ah, Lord Dashwood. I don't really know him all to well but I have heard great things about him. Is he a friend of yours?" Dean nodded yes, and then scanned the room again, Azazel was gone.

"He's speaking with Lord Henry." The blue-eyed man pointed Dean to Azazel off in a corner, appearing caught up in conversation but Dean could easily see that he was being watched. An idea struck him.

"Do you know where the artist is? I am also looking for him... to… to congratulate him." the question wasn't as graceful as Dean would have liked, however it got the man to laugh.

"You mean Castiel? Well I'm sure he's around here somewhere... probably talking with an undercover secret agent, knowing him." Dean sucked in a breath and tensed.

"You're the artist." He addressed the first obvious thing.

"Yes, I am. And thank you for the kind words. And you are?" Castiel asked with mild amusement. Dean kept his eyes on Azazel, and he could tell Azazel was doing the same. Dean decided to drop the façade.

"Look," Dean whispered, turning his full attention back to Castiel and dropping his proper sounding speech. "If you know what I am then you know someone here is not safe. That person is you. Come with me, I can protect you." There was slight desperation in his tone, he knew that, and his eyes were pleading, but he needed Castiel to understand. Dean had moments before everything was going to fall apart. Castiel opened his mouth to comment but the only sounds just then were the screeching of a siren with compatible red flashing lights. He _had_ moments. Castiel covered his ears at the sound, and people began bustling around hurriedly, trying to make it outside. The room was suddenly turning into chaos. Voices picked up, bustling turned into running, and when Dean turned back around, Azazel was gone. Dean had a feeling all of a sudden. He looked around the room frantically. This would be Azazel's perfect chance for a poison dart. Dean had to decide, either go after Azazel, or save this insignificant man's life.

Dean grabbed the arm of the artist, and after barely any protest, was dragging him back up the stairs. Navigating though the crowd proved challenging but eventually they made it to the stair case. Dean pushed Castiel in front of him, protecting the man's back. Castiel went willingly and was running up the stairs. Guards were closing in on the crowd, Dean noticed when he turned back to look over the balcony, after the pair had made it to the top. He was directing Castiel to the door Dean had come from, only to find it was locked. He took out his lock pick, commanding Castiel to crouch next to him, away from the crowd. Castiel ignored him and pushed Dean aside. At first Dean was confused, shocked, and worried, but that only lasted a moment because Castiel was taking out a pair of keys from inside his suit jacket. Dean turned back toward the balcony, keeping an eye out and making sure Castiel wasn't in a vulnerable position.

The door clicked and before Dean could turn around; he was being grabbed by the arm and pulled through the door. The hallway was now bright white and two guards were standing at the exit. Dean grabbed his clothes he had discarded earlier, and then handed them to Castiel.

"One minute." He said. Dean charged at the guards. Their guns were raised but Dean was fast enough in the short hallway to knock the weapons from their grasp. It only took a few skilled hits for the guards to be unconscious. He then signaled for Castiel to follow. When he opened the exit, he noticed Castiel wasn't behind him. Dean looked back over his shoulder to see Castiel standing there, staring at the bodies Dean had just knocked out, frozen in his place.

"Castiel, I know what this looks like, but you gotta trust me now! There is a man in there that will kill you. If you get away now, he will find you if you are with anyone other than me. I can keep you safe, but you have to come _now_!" Castiel's eyes slowly drew up from the bodies to meet Dean. Dean suddenly got that same turning in his gut he did when he was met with Castiel's stare earlier.

"Please!" Dean snapped Castiel out of it, and he was soon running toward Dean, Dean's clothes still bundled in his arms. Dean let castiel out first, and shut the door behind them. Dean grabbed Castiel again, and the two of them made for the van across the lot. The fence still separated the Van from the museum's property, but just as Dean was about to start climbing, Castiel took out another key and opened the lock, only taking a few seconds to do so, trying to balance the clothes in his other hand. He then let both of them through before locking the gate again. It was a dead sprint to the van. Dean looked back toward the entrance to the museum to see red and blue flashing all around. There was a helicopter above that almost spotlighted them, but Dean pulled Castiel out of its path just before it hit him. Dean looked over his shoulder once more, frozen in his step. There, behind the gate, was Azazel, a weapon in his hand starting at the two of them. Dean turned back to Castiel.

Then they were at the Van. Dean knocked four times as fast as possible, before the back door slid open. Dean dove in, dragging Castiel with him, all the while never letting go of Castiel's arm from the moment they left the building.

"DRIVE!" Dean shouted to the front seat.

"What the hell happened back there, Dean?!" Sam exclaimed as he took off before the door was even closed all the way.

"I had him! I had him! He was in the friggin room and let him go!" Sam wasn't sure if Dean was talking to him or to himself at this point.

"Um Dean…" came Castiel's shaky voice from behind.

"Dean, do you know what kinda mess this puts us in?! The entire agency is gonna freak when they hear about how this went!"

"You think I don't know that?!"

"Dean" Castiel said more adamantly now.

"This screw up could toast both of us!"

"I tried okay!" The shouting was only frustrating Dean further.

"DEAN!" came Castiel's voice once again.

"WHAT?!" Dean yelled behind him, turning he saw what Castiel was worried about. The red patch wasn't noticeable until Dean got a slight glance at the white shirt under the black jacket and the red smeared across Castiel's hands when trying to cover the wound. Dean's face went white.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean brushed the washcloth across the dark mass of hair gently, then squeezed out the water into the bucket by the side of the bed and started again.

"Has he woken up yet?" Sam asked from where he leaned against the door frame.

"No, the injections he got from Pamala are still fresh in his system. But he should be up in a few hours." Dean replied without taking his eyes off the guy. It was disconcerting not to have the eerie blue gaze staring back at him.

"Dean…" The man in question sensed the forthcoming conversation and interrupted before it gained momentum.

"Shut up Sam. I know I messed up."

"We need to talk about this-"

"No, you do. I'm fine without it." Sam was getting frustrated and pressed on. Anger was becoming apparent in his voice.

"Look, if we're not going to talk about this as brothers than we need to talk about it as partners. I need to know what went on! If you turned up anywhere on those feeds then you've been compromised and I really don't want to have to deal with that after all this!" Sam huffed a breath and unclenched his fists.

"You done?"

"Damn it Dean!" Sam turned to leave the room, but stopped for a moment and spun back, "I'm calling this in. You got ten minutes to be prepared for the meeting." Dean sighed in resignation. "Like it or not Dean, you almost got someone killed and we still have no idea if the artist made it out okay."

"He is the artist." Dean said back.

"Okay, then the host."

"He is the host. Our information was a little off. He wasn't looking for two separate people." And that was the only information Dean was giving out at this moment. The feeling of failure still rested in his stomach. He was so close. After everything Azazel had done to so many people and Dean's own family and Dean missed the opportunity. For a moment Dean second-guessed himself. Maybe he should have gone after Azazel. But then Dean looked down at the black haired man sleeping.

No. He made the right choice.

Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't have gotten Cas out of there- and wait, Cas? Since when did he start calling the guy Cas in his mind? A snort from behind him drew his attention.

"Would you give the guy some room to breathe?" Sam asked with a hint of amusement, lightening the mood.

"Don't you have hair curlers to put in? It's late. Get some sleep, Samantha."Another huff came from Sam and Dean heard him turn to leave. Dean sat back in the chair he had pulled up and reached for the remote. When he flipped on the TV, a news caster's voice was suddenly booming from the speakers with an urgent voice.

"_We just got word that although the thieves escaped the museum, something much more precious than the paintings were taken. It is reported that the famous Castiel Novak is missing and search parties are underway."_

Crap.

"_There is also possible evidence of a security video catching one of the assailants."_

Crap crap.

"_The investigation is underway."_

…

"SAAAAM!"

The office was in an uproar. Telephones were ringing, copiers and printers were buzzing, people shouting over the phone and to one another, several of the television sets were on various news channels, and everyone was running about. It was chaos. Dean and Sam squirmed their way through the crowd in an attempt to make it to one of the board rooms. People were pushing to get inside and already the room was packed. The brothers just made it inside the room when the door sealed shut behind them. All around them people were in hushed conversation waiting for the boss to show. Just then, a door which was connected to Bobby's office opened. Bobby made his way to the head of the table and looked out amongst the crowd, his eyes stopping briefly on Sam and Dean.

"All right shut it ya idjits!" Everyone immediately took their seats. Bobby pulled out a chair as well and set himself down. Then he motioned to the brothers and spoke, "Well get on with it." Dean sighed and placed himself at the other end of the table. Sam close behind. Dean was a bit nervous locking eyes with all of his impatient colleagues but an elbow from Sam unlocked his jaw.

"It was Azazel."

In that moment everyone was up from their chairs and shouting across the table. People were busily working their tablets and others were threatening fists toward the brothers and Bobby. Dean's eyes went wide.

"Did you see his face?"

"Was his usual crew working with him?"

"Did he make his target?"

"When was he last seen?"

"Did he escape?"

"Why didn't you tell us about this case?"

"Is it over?"

"QUIET!" Bobby's voice boomed above the rest of the crowd. Slowly everyone took their seats. Bobby's eyes were mirrored with fury; h is dissatisfaction about the outcome of the case apparent in his demeanor. "Boys," Dean looked up and stated at his boss. He was really gunna have to do this it seemed.

"He was targeting a famous artist for reasons unknown." Sam spoke from his side. "We heard from an unidentifiable source that he would be at the museum for an art show. We also learned that the museum's owner and host was also to be targeted. Later we learned that the artist and Host are the same person." Sam took a breath and glanced over to Dean who nodded his head for his brother to continue. "We tracked his location to the third floor deep in the library. We assumed his position would be right above the stage, which would be the most convenient location to distribute his weapon. Our sources also told us Azazel had ordered five ounces of poison. When Dean went to intercept him, however, he was ready for us. A small bomb with his tracking signal was waiting for us when we arrived, which threw off communications between my partner and me."

Same once again looked toward Dean. Dean read the expression on his face and knew that was were Dean would have to pick up the story.

Dean began, "From there I tried to catch him before he got lost in the crowd but," Dean paused, trying to piece together a way to continue. "I… got distracted briefly and by then Azazel was lost. I decided to initiate our back up plan and joined him. Just as I located him again, however, the FBI was knocking down the door. We must have triggered the security system and they assumed the museum was being robbed-"

"That still doesn't explain why you kidnapped the artist." An irritated voice spoke. Dean noticed it was Becky from communications. Dean let out a grunt of annoyance.

"I'm gettin' there." He turned back to the crowd. "Knowing the risk of leaving the victim without protection I decided instead that his safety was more important and proceeded to escape the building. Azazel was there when we escaped so I'm guessing he got out too. We called Dr. Barnes to our safe house after Cas had been shot by Azazel. And… and that's all I got."

There was a silence among the room. No one shot up or left, no one spoke a word. They all just stared. Defeat was evident in their eyes. The silence lasted for a few beats before Bobby once again raised his voice.

"Get the FBI on the line; tell 'um it was one of our guys. Inform them of the situation. Becky," He looked to her, "Get a story out to media, we don't want this goin' public." With that he stood and dismissed the meeting. There was a solemnity amongst the group as they departed to go about their jobs. Dean could see it on everyone's face; the feeling of _so close._ The Winchester family wasn't the only one that was affected by the horrible drug lord and murderer. His crew made sure to make an impact on every one of the people involved in this organization.

After the board room was mostly empty, Bobby gestured over to his office, Dean understood the signal. He followed the man through the connecting room and sat down feeling the fatigue of the chase in every muscle of his body. Bobby sat down in his office chair in much the same manner. Sam stayed put by the door.

"Have a drink son." Bobby directed his attention to the bottle on his desk. Dean leaned forward and poured a glass.

"Cas huh?" Dean looked up at a smirking Sam but didn't comment.

"Where is the guy anyway?" Bobby questioned. Dean thought for a moment. He knew he could trust Bobby, but the fact that Azazel had known of their plan made Dean a little weary. He decided to play it safe.

"Safe."

"I see." Bobby let out a sigh. "I guess we have to address this then." He looked at both Sam and Dean with sad eyes. "There's a rat somewhere. Best find the pest before it becomes a real problem. I'll get somebody on it but I can't promise ya anything. As for the artist, Cas, or whatever, we're gunna need ta question him. I have a feelin' he might know more than he lets on. I think he knows more than we do, and he knows it too." Dean had the same feeling. Bobby directed his attention to Sam. "Sam, see if you can pull together some more info on Azazel's current whereabouts. Check all the usual sources and see in downtown could help you out. I want that source you spoke of earlier in here soon as you can get him."

The brothers nodded and were dismissed.

On the way out of the main room, past the communications sector, though the reception area, and up the elevator the brothers walked in silence. Dean could tell Sam was just holding back and it itched like a flea. Finally when they were out of the entire building and secret passage ways, Dean finally had enough of the awkward atmosphere.

"What?!" He spat, turning on Sam. Sam just looked at him but then let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry you know."

"Sorry about what?" Dean's voice was a bit calmer now.

"About what I said earlier, about how much we failed, about being compromised and almost getting someone killed. You couldn't have anticipated Azazel knowing our position. So… Yeah. I'm sorry about accusing you and blaming you and everything. I guess I was just upset and disappointed about not finally catching the bastard." Dean understood completely. Didn't mean he didn't want Sam to feel a little guilty a little longer.

"Sorry to be such a disappointment." He spoke with vehemence.

"Shut up, you know what I meant!"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Back at the safe house, Sam was packing up and Dean was cleaning his weapons when a small muffled noise came from the bedroom. Both brothers instantly heard the sound (Spies, remember?) and were on their feet and in the room in seconds. On the bed Cas was trying to pull himself into a seated position. Dean was at his side though and pushing him back down.

"Hey Cas, how ya feelin'? I know you're probably a little confused but you should rest up." Dean looked back at Sam and waved him off. Sam just rolled his eyes and went back to packing.

"Where… where am I?" His voice was even more gruff than the time Dean had first heard his voice and a shudder passed through Dean's body. _What the hell?_ But he shook it off and directed his attention back to Cas. He decided to use the same precaution as he did with Bobby.

"You're safe."

"Thank you." For a moment Dean thought he was being sarcastic since Dean had given him kind of a crap answer, but one look into Castiel's eyes told him he was completely sincere. "For saving my life, that is." Dean couldn't help but be pleased with those cerulean eyes once again on him. Although they were a bit dimmer than the first time he had seen him.

"You should get some rest. We're leaving in a few hours."

"Leaving? Why?"

Dean just barely stopped himself from stroking the guy's hair to calm him down and instead used his most calming voice.

"Sam and I might have been compromised and we need to get moving if we have any hope of finding your assailant." Cas simply nodded as if he had no reason not to trust Dean. It was a bit startling to be honest. Cas closed his eyes and sank back into the bed. But just before drifting off, he peaked open his eyes once again and with a hint of his former amusement asked, "Cas?" Why was everyone asking that?


End file.
